


this was icarus drowning

by harpers_mirror (SapphireBryony)



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Background Poly, Dealing With Trauma, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Poly triad, vacation fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 14:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireBryony/pseuds/harpers_mirror
Summary: Nothing's ever simple. But together, maybe it doesn't have to suck quite so much.





	this was icarus drowning

**Author's Note:**

> Hey kids, guess who's back after a half-year hiatus from writing? And guess who still hasn't listened to the W359 finale due to reasons of emotional fortitude? I know, I know, I have to confront it sometime...
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this little bit of Minffel hurt/comfort that I wrote on vacation a few weeks back. Let me know what you think! Comments make my day. Title is taken from William Carlos Williams's "Landscape With the Fall of Icarus."

Her seat was shaking.

Renée sneaked a glance sideways, checking on her companion. To anyone else, Doug Eiffel was the picture of boredom, fitting right in at the airport gate where tired-looking people filled every available seat and bit of floor.

But she knew him, knew his quirks and tells and tics. And right now, everything about Doug was screaming "Oh god oh god, get me out of here." His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, hands clasped over his stomach, long legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle and jiggling nervously. It was this incredibly annoying repetitive motion that was making Renée's entire seat vibrate right along with him.

Slowly, with feigned casualness, she slid a hand over onto his knee. The shaking stopped immediately but the radiating anxiety only grew. He glanced over at her, shooting her a blank-behind-the-eyes grin. 

The sight of it made her stomach hurt. She held his gaze for a moment. The smile slowly cracked and fell off in pieces. Doug glanced away, apparently finding something fascinating on his shoes.

Renée squeezed his knee, leaving her hand there. "Wanna talk about it?" she asked quietly.

"You ask me that like you're gonna give me a choice," he muttered. 

She sighed. The Renée of a year ago would have jerked away, stammered an apology, and dropped the matter. Or worse, she would have gotten pissed at him, gone off on Eiffel for not reacting the way she thought he ought to.

Now she knew better. "Hold that thought," she said, pulling out her phone. Firing off a quick message to Dominik to let him know they'd be wandering away from the gate, she got to her feet and reached out a hand to Doug.

"Come on," she said, looking at him with expectation. He sighed and she knew he was giving in mostly because he knew how tenacious she could be and he didn't have the energy to argue. She'd take what she could get.

Doug took her offered hand and she pulled him to his feet. He was still too easy to push and pull about, still too insubstantial.

"Where are we going?" he asked once she'd steered them back down the concourse. "Gonna check me with the rest of your baggage?"

Renée winced at that but tried to play it off.

"Yup," she replied, still walking. "I'm going to hang one of those little paper luggage tags from your ear." She flicked said ear for emphasis. It got a smile out of him and her chest felt tight.

After a moment, she spoke again. "What's up, Eiffel?"

He glanced at the glass ceiling of the terminal. "Clouds. Birds. Planes. Ooh, look, there's one right now!"

"Very funny." She sighed and reached for his hand, giving him a small smile. "You're a funny, funny guy."

"I try," Doug replied, squeezing her hand. "Always good to hear feedback from the critics though. Keeps me sharp."

"Well that seems to be working," Renée shot back, "because you're certainly never dull."

He looked away and she wondered if she'd screwed up. But then he looked back and his smile was faint but present, and wholly for her.

They walked hand-in-hand for a minute longer before Doug spoke. 

"I'm afraid," he said, very quietly. 

"Of what?"

He chuckled quietly. "Oh, so very many things. You want 'em alphabetically or chronologically?"

"Doug.”

They heaved simultaneous sighs, which had the pleasant side effect of turning those sighs into quiet laughter when they realized what they'd done.

"Well that can't be good," said Doug, grinning down at her. "You're starting to resemble me, boss."

"Trust me," she replied dryly. "They day that becomes a real concern, I'm having NASA launch me into the sun."

"Please, take me with you," Doug replied, and the edge to his voice caught her off-guard. "But that just brings us back to the original problem, doesn't it."

"What?"

"I'm terrified to get on that airplane, Renée." The admission was very quiet. "I don't know why - wait, no, that's a lie, I totally know why, but that's not super-important - anyway, I have this nagging feeling that if I get on that plane and it goes hurtling down the runway to launch itself into the wild blue yonder, I'm dead."

Well. That answered some questions, raised a few others, and engendered a sudden and totally illogical sense of doom and foreboding in her own mind. Great. Now Dominik was going to have to hold  _ both _ of their hands at take-off.

"Well," she repeated, this time out loud. "That could mean one of two things. Option one: you've developed psychic powers and are predicting our untimely deaths. In that case, I have to wonder why you didn't manifest this power a few years ago when it could have done us some real good."

"Can't rush genius," Doug muttered. Renée snorted and moved on, her voice low.

"Or option two, the last time you flew was when we came home and, like any sane person, you don't want to do anything that even remotely replicates that experience."

"Well that's just ridiculous. It assumes I'm 'any sane person' which you'll be the first to admit, I totally am not."

She sighed again. "Doug..."

He went quiet, seeming to focus on watching where he was going. This section of the terminal was crowded as two flights let off side-by-side at the same time. Making their way over to the nearest out-of-the-way wall, Doug leaned back against it, heedless of his backpack which got squashed as he did so. Renée, bracing herself against the wall beside him with one arm, kept her eyes on his face.

Staring down at his shoes, he said quietly, “Got it in one, boss. I’ve been trying to psych myself up for this for weeks. I just...” He sighed. “I thought it would be all good, y’know? At first? Like, vacation - always great, but vacation with you guys? No way I’m gonna miss out on that.” He shot a small grin sideways at her.

“And at first I didn’t really think about the, you know, logistics of having to fly to get there. And then Dom was booking flights and you were talking about carry-ons and I started having these really  _ awesome _ nightmares about planes exploding and oxygen masks full of mutant murder-viruses and flight attendant assassins. That last one was actually kind of fun...” He shook his head. “Anyway, it’s been rough and I feel really dumb.”

Renée sighed. “I’d ask why you didn’t say something sooner, but well, I’ve  _ met _ you so I know the answer. Are you going to be able to handle this? Nik and I will be with you the whole time, and while I didn’t run background checks on the flight attendants, I feel pretty comfortable saying that it’ll all be okay.”

“I’m not  _ actually _ worried about assassins and murder-viruses,” he said, trying and failing to smile.

She met his uncomfortable gaze. “I know.” Reaching up, she rested a hand on his cheek. “We’ll do our best to get you there in one piece, okay? Whether that means hand-holding during take-off or letting you describe Star Wars expanded universe plotlines in detail - whatever makes you feel better.” She moved her hand from his face to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly.

Doug exhaled, closing his eyes. “Thanks, boss. I don’t... thanks.”

“I’m not terribly keen on the idea of flying either, Doug,” she admitted. “I mean, I was  _ better _ before a certain someone started describing all the things that could go wrong, but... you’re not alone in this.”

Without a word, he pulled her into a tight hug, so suddenly that she made an undignified squeaking sound as Doug’s arms wrapped around her. His laugh was the briefest breath of sound but it warmed her heart. They stood there, wrapped up in each other for a long moment.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, into her hair. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” He pulled back a bit and, hesitantly, like he still wasn’t one hundred percent sure it was allowed, kissed her gently.

When they broke apart, she grinned up at him. "Well then," she said, releasing him as she turned to head back the way they'd come. "I hope you realize two things from this conversation."

He was grinning now too, the big, irrepressible smile that took over his entire face when he was really happy. "What's that?" he asked.

"One, that you can stop trying to handle everything yourself because you have people who care about you and want to help you, you moron." The insult only made his smile widen.

"Fair enough. I'll try to keep it in mind. It's kind of a revolutionary concept for me. What's the second thing?"

"That we've walked a really long way and our flight leaves in fifteen minutes and we need to be back at the gate in about...ninety seconds."

"Shit."

They glanced at each other and took off sprinting down the concourse.


End file.
